


secrets i have held in my heart (are harder to hide than I thought)

by Gabby



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Because Italian!, Dinner, F/M, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Food, Foreign Language, Friendship, Italy, Some Humor, Sweet, Undercover, Undercover as a Couple, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Weapons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-04
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-01 10:30:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4016335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gabby/pseuds/Gabby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jemma is going on her first undercover mission since HYDRA... </p><p>...With a man she may or may not be extremely attracted to.</p><p>All in all, a great plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU! Soo fucking AU! After that goddamn finale... *sighs* Well, this is my way of comforting myself. I just hope you enjoy it as well. Remember, if you happen to be anti-Ward or don't ship WardSimmons, I don't want to hear about it. Any negativity will not be tolerated. Seriously.
> 
> The title is from _I Wanna Be Yours_ by Arctic Monkeys.
> 
> Listen to the song. You'll understand... ;)

_"I know what you're doing..."_ She hears Skye sing-song at her doorway whilst she's trying her hardest to make sure everything on her list is neatly packed into her go-bag.

"I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about." She mutters just loud enough for one of her best friends to hear and not looking up as she checks off multi-vitamins on her list.

"Oh, so you're not the one going undercover with Ward?"

She still doesn't look at her clearly amused company while completing her task because of course, Skye is very much right.

About the fact that she is going on an undercover mission on foreign soil with one Grant Ward. One of SHIELD's foremost specialists before it's fall and now Coulson's number one go-to with their most dangerous missions - next to Trip and Bobbi and May and Hunter, mostly - after he had unceremoniously joined their team months before.

They had met (and for some, reunited with) him when they had raided a HYDRA cell with his unexpected assistance. Trip and Bobbi agreeing to let him onto the base when Coulson had brought it about.

Word is that he, along with Trip, had been one of John Garrett's top students and that when Garrett's true allegiance had come put in the open in those awful final days when everything had fallen apart, he had (to put it simply) not taken it well and afterward, had gone off the reservation and then completely off the grid, causing most of who knew him to think him dead.

To witness Bobbi and Trip near tears at his reappearance had been quite a sight.

Even May, who's very nature dictated caution before trust in all things, welcomed him as a fellow comrade.

And Skye - considering her ordeal during the uprising - easily warmed to him through a surprisingly short period of time and more so when he'd become an unexpectedly entertaining sparing partner and an ear for her sardonic one-liners.

And to say she had been surprised to see the odd friendship develop between he and Fitz would be a definite understatement. He, Hunter, and Mack being hilariously bro-y with Ward in their off-hours.

His interactions with her? Well...

It's... hard to explain.

To sum it up, Grant Ward is one of the most sarcastic, cocky (verging on _arrogant_ ), and self-confident men she's ever met. He's blunt and dry and although, not as openly flirtatious as Trip, a few simple words from him has been known to cause just as many - if not _more_ \- unsuspecting women on the base to blush scarlet in his presence.

He's also had the reputation to have saved the lives of many of his fellow agents and gained Coulson's trust almost instantaneously when invited onto the base. A brilliant strategic mind tacked on with a decade's worth of specialist work.

He's also, indeed, funny, friendly, animated, and has a sharp, wicked sense of humor that seems very _unfair_ when attached to a man with that _body_ and that _face_ and that _horrendously_  distracting smile of his.

"So, what of it?" She asks exasperated and finally looks up at the smug smile on her best friend's face.

"Soo..." The younger woman echoes, walking further into the room, her expression spelling trouble. "...You're going on a mission with Ward."

"And?" She hedges, back to her task, even though at this point she's stalling because being who she is, Jemma had already had mostly everything she needs before even walking back into her quarters after she and Gran - _Ward_ - were given their assignment in Coulson's office earlier.

"Are you kidding me?" She hears Skye ask dryly. "Grant Ward. About... all of six foot two." She adds suggestively and Jemma fights not to roll her eyes even as her cheeks burns because yes, he most definitely is. "Broad shoulders. Wears the hell out of a tac vest. Takes off his shirt every time without you asking. Stares at you when in the same room together like he wants to-"

"He does not!" She protests in an embarrassing high voice at the very thought and no, there's no way a man like him would look do _that_. Ever.

He's just... observant, is all.

"-Don't interrupt me and yes, he does. Anyway, that is the same man you are going on a two person mission with - playing a married couple together! - in one of the most romantic places in Europe. Alone. For god knows how many weeks and you're not seeing the big deal here?!"

Not this again. Almost ever since he had arrived on base, Skye has had this ridiculous theory about Ward's _attraction_ to her. About the way he apparently gazes at her from across the room. Or brightens up when she enters his area of vision. Or makes extra sure that she doesn't skip meals when caught up in her science.

OK. Well, she has noticed that _last_ one. It's not as though she starves exactly and everybody on the base has missed eating once in a while for the sake of work. It happens. And it's not like he wouldn't do the same for Fitz.

Though, alright, fine, she has noted that it's _her_ who has food saved (often cooked and left specifically for her) if she misses dinner or has her favorite sandwich appear during lunch when she's too busy to drag herself out of the lab.

Or her preferred snack at odd hours of the night during her biochem binges.

And yes, so maybe, he's a little more - she doesn't wanna say _softer_ but, there is no other manner in which to describe it - with her. He's... kinder. He seems to go out of his way to make her laugh or do something nice for her. Things she alone would appreciate.

Like, last week, when he'd brought her back that specimen from the suspicious dig site in Turkey, knowing from past excursions that she would be _overjoyed_ at the possible new discovery.

Could it be? Could he actually-

"No." She finds herself saying out loud, shaking her head and going to looking through her belongings to double check, at least. "I am not. Because there is nothing to see. He's just being-"

-"Smitten? Made stupid by love bug?"-

-"Polite." She corrects, choosing to ignore the alarmingly casual use of the word love despite the skipping of her traitorous heart. "Kind. Friendly. He's like that with everybody." She adds with warning and a pointed look at her friend and then digging around her bag to make sure she has the one thin- her toiletry bag; she's missing her toiletry bag! - before looking around the room for it.

"Okay, Dr. Oblivious, why don't you take the opportunity on this mission to-"

"What? Do you want me to seduce him?"

Skye being who she is, just shrugs as though what she'd just half-joked about is absolutely no big deal. "I was actually gonna suggest that you two hash it out on getting things started but, yeah, okay, that works, too."

She'd been _kidding_ but, of course, Skye would take something like that seriously. "You're ridiculous. I am not and will never seduce him."

"I could give you a few pointers I learned from Bobbi."

"Ugh!" She hears her hands up in frustration at this juncture. "No! Get out of here already. I have to bloody finish and you're not helping!"

"God, fine." The darker-haired woman flings up her own palms and turns around the way she came, possibly, muttering. "Jesus, so genius yet so dumb. Stubborn."

"What was that?"

"Nothing! Have fun on your mission!" Skye utters in a falsely cheerful tone of voice, never turning around to face her as she leaves her quarters.

Doesn't matter. She'll get her later but, right this second she needs to find her toiletry bag if it's the last thing she- Where is it? She could have sworn it was here somewhere.

She starts checking around her carry-on again. Her bed. Her nightstand.

She can't find it!

She's just about to give up and leave the room to go find it elsewhere when she hears a sound near the doorway and spins around about to give her friend the worst tongue-lashing.

"Skye! I swear I told you I will not be seduc-"

Grant Ward smiles at her - damn him, he has a lovely smile - from her open doorway, hip cocked against the frame. Wearing dark blue jeans and shirt with sturdy boots and one of his oft-worn leather jackets.

And she _hates_ him. It's like the universe is trying to disprove her of the notion of not being intensely attracted to him.

"Who aren't you seducing?"

"Uh..." The very _not_ new feeling of her brain short-circuiting on her when faced with that smile and his warm eyes settles over her for a short minute before she manages to recover. "Nothing. Nobody, I mean. It's just a silly joke between Skye and I. It's nothing... you know how she is." She allows herself to smile back at him and even if he looks somewhat unconvinced by her words, his own widens significantly and she maintains that he simply likes it when people returns his smiles.

And that's it.

"Ready to go?" He asks, taking her out of her thoughts immediately.

"Kind of." She gestures around her living quarters, her previous chore immediately taking root once again. "I can't seem to find my toiletry bag anywhere."

He walks further into her room, asking. "What's it look like?"

"It's blue. This long." She spreads her fingers apart. "A bit bulky."

He helps her look for a small while and she tries not to find his presence in the same space that she changes and sleeps in too distracting, in spite of her mind going to very inappropriate places as he's only being his normal amicable self and helping her.

He's being sweet and _she's_ being the pervert.

He, of course, finds it in the corner of her dresser. The one area she hadn't thought to look.

"Oh, thank you." She sighs after he tosses it at her. "You have no idea how much frustration you just saved me."

"It's nothing." He walks around her bed, joining her at the foot where her carry-on lays and she zips it open again to carefully place her once lost bag inside of it. "And damn, that is bulky."

"It's the small things that matter, Agent Ward." She says without looking and closing her luggage. And it's true. That bag contains her cosmetics. Her meds. Little pieces of herself that would keep her from going crazy. And of course, you never know when-

He's staring at her now.

Fundamentally, she'd known he had been next to her and that he's right there, at the foot of her bed with her as she packs up but, then she's turning around and he's _there_. Closer than she had thought.

He steps a bit into her space and once more, it's not as though she often forgets how tall he is - how _well-built_ he is - but, now it's in her face. The size of him is overwhelming being soo close and she unconsciously holds her breath without realizing it initially.

Then she nearly wants to kick herself. He isn't the _Hulk_ , for god's sake, she shouldn't feel so dwarfed by him when she's so sure that it hadn't been his intent.

"Grant." He finally says, peering into her face with warm, intense eyes. His head tilted in a way she _tries_ not to find endearing.

"What?" She asks more breathlessly than she'd wanted because this near him, she can see the gold flecks in his dark gaze. Count his lashes, almost. The growing stubble accentuating his cheekbones. The upward curling of his mouth.

And, for the first time, up close she can  _smell_ him. A mix of cedarwood, spices, and something distinctly masculine all his own that wraps itself around her and makes her nose tingle.

He basically smells the way he looks. Like the cleanest _mountain_ in the world.

"I keep asking you to call me Grant." He elaborates, his smile different from the one he'd given her when he had caught her unawares earlier. Teasing. Playfully intimate. His voice nearly a caress. "I thought we talked about this."

That he does. _All_ of the time. And yet, in the name of professionalism and ignoring the pull towards him, she keeps forgetting and he always takes it in stride.

This is the first time, however, that he's been this serious. Has looked at her like this.

"Oh." She manages, head reeling and her breath short. "I-I forgot, is all."

"Again?" He teases gently and apparently noting _something_ in that instant, he steps back a bit, his expression shifting. "Simmons, I'm about to be your husband for the unforeseeable future. You might as well get used to calling me by my first name, at least."

When he gives her that small foot of space, her head clears and the first thing she notes is his use of her name. _Simmons_. As he's mostly called her. _Simmons_. _Doc_. Casual usage of her title and it's accompanying last name.

The way he does with everyone else.

He had used her first name once. Called her Jemma almost in afterthought during a shared lunch once upon a time and when she had reacted in - what _he'd_ perceived to be - discomfort, he had back peddled and apologized and never did it again.

Of course, she's never gonna tell him that his calling her Jemma had sounded way too good coming out of his mouth. The way it rolled off his tongue too appealing for her to handle.

"Well then..." She says, making a decision. "If I have to call you Grant. I think it only fair that you call me Jemma."

She doesn't bother pretending the blinding smile he sends in her direction isn't gratifying in it's own right. "Alright." He utters before adding. "Jemma." His smile turns into a smirk and the transformation causes her chest to flutter. "Well, shall we?" He asks, gesturing out into the hallway.

"We shall." She says, grabbing her belongings, taking a deep breath, and following the path of his outstretched arm and out into the hall, hearing the click of her door as he closes it.

 _First step of adventure._ She thinks as he falls into step with her.

And if he places his hand on the small of her back, she doesn't ask him to take it away.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! :) I hope you enjoyed it. Tell me what you think and if you'd like to see more. :) Be constructive and kind. If you please.


	2. Chapter 2

In between the short few hours of Coulson giving them the assignment and later, team saying their goodbyes to them - Skye and Fitz, especially, fussing around Simmons to please be careful and giving him the eye as if to add, take care of her or else - Ward realizes just what is about to happen.

Meaning apart from going on an undercover mission for the first time in a long time (since it'd been _Garrett_ giving him his orders) and that this mission may very well be connected to HYDRA. The very organization they had been trying to bring down for months and that had had his former SO's true allegiance.

No, aside from the professional implications of this whole assignment.

He's going to be undercover with Jemma Simmons. As a couple. A _married_ couple.

Jesus. He hadn't exactly known what he'd been thinking - well, that's a lie, he knows a few specific thoughts that had taken hold of his mind - when he had said yes to this whole thing.

And it has a lot more to do with the pretty biochemist he's about to spend an unforeseen amount of time alone with, than he would ever say out loud.

It had been several months since he had joined Director Coulson's team and with that, had come a lot of changes. He had disproved his death to those who know him - which, ugh, come on, him, dead? really? - and had also gained a team. Something he hadn't never really wanted or needed.

He'd worked alone. Or on occasion, with Trip or Bobbi (at times, both of them) because, in spite of himself, their near constant partnering in the field had accidently led to friendship.

It also helped that they took none of his shit and aren't terrified of him.

And half of that had been Garrett's influence and the other, Ward's own ruthless reputation at SHIELD.

Regardless, now he had an actual team. A man he took orders from whom he's slightly sure he could trust. New friends. And...

... Jemma Simmons.

How to categorize her in his world has been proving more than a little difficult.

He vaguely recalls being brought into the Playground that first time to meet with Director Coulson. Roaming the halls of what was to become his home base thereafter. Seeing the looks of confusion and surprise on many baby agents' faces. The admiration on the more seasoned few.

But, his most vivid memory has been and will always be her.

Walking towards the Director's office, flanked by Bobbi and Trip, by the glass-encased area holding the labs.

Having her stop him dead in his tacks the way she will continue do for the next several months.

He remembers doing a double-take at the sight of her, hovering over a holotable wearing those silly large lab goggles, working away and completely unaware of the new attention she had drawn her way.

He had drawn some eyes as well. Young lab techs staring at him nervously through the glass. His two old friends possibly giving him the all-knowing eye at his side.

But, he had paid them absolutely no mind.

He had watched for a few minutes as her brows furrowed in concentration before her face lit up and the frown lifted completely as she'd smiled wide and slightly crooked, calling over another man in the room to have a look at her findings.

 _Radiant_. He had thought. _Incandescent_. He'd reinforced. _Luminous_. He had stuck with.

Yet, _gorgeous_ is the one he stayed with after seeing her up close and shaking her hand and having his whole heart palpitate at that smile directed his way. Those beautiful whiskey-colored eyes sparkling as she did.

And then after that, it hadn't gotten any better.

Since he and Fitz had become friends, he'd found himself spending more time down in the labs and as a very unintended ( _shut up, Trip_ ) benefit of said time, he got to be in great proximity to her.

That and it also helps that after missions he, more often than his fellow agents, wound up in the infirmary next to the lab and since Simmons is their resident chief medic in spite of others on site, well...

She'd stitch him up and he'd take the opportunity to talk _her_ up.

He's pretty sure he's been flirting with her. If he sees an opening, he goes for it and many a times when she'd been attending to him, he would mean to say one thing but, his mouth would slip with another.

Like _thank you_ becoming instead _you've got good hands_.

Which is just... he's lucky she had taken it like the compliment he'd intended and not some weird innuendo about putting her hands on him.

And now, he's thinking about having her hands on him.

Fuck.

"You know if you stare hard enough, you can burn a hole in her blouse."

He sighs. Never let it be said that Bobbi Morse doesn't know how to make an entrance.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." He retorts to the leggy blonde now standing next to him and staring at him with a knowing brow.

She scoffs. "You used to be such a better liar than that."

"Can I help you with something?" He asks, already on the edge. Something, knowing her, she probably had meant to do. "Or are you just here to irritate me?"

"A girl can't say goodbye to her best pal-"

"Nice try."

"It was worth a shot." She says immediately and pins him with a look. "Come on, Ward."

"Come on what?"

She wiggles her eyebrows in the most outrageously suggestive fashion known to man then and he doesn't know whether to laugh or stab himself in the actual eyeball. "You. Simmons. Come on." She head checks towards the very woman in question, not standing ten feet away while Fitz continues to fuss over her and god, he hopes she can keep it down with whatever embarrassment she's got in mind. "Come on."

When he still says nothing, she huffs in frustration and he'd never thought he would live to see the day when Barbara 'Badass Bobbi' Morse turned into a teenaged version of herself. "Oh, come on, Ward. Don't tell me you don't know what I'm saying." Before he can vocalize what exactly he thinks of that, she spears on. "You're going undercover with Simmons. Alone. In Italy, jackass. Italy. With the woman of your dreams and where-"

"Where you went on a honeymoon with an ex-husband you now hate?" He asks politely even though he had already sniffed out where this particular tale had been headed and yes, as he had mentioned, he's well-aware that he's going to be spending time alone with Simm- Jemma and he's trying not to think about it.

She glares at him. "I do not hate Hunter, we just- Anyway, how dare you bring that up?"

"Because I know you too well." He says because he really does.

"Because you're a jerk."

He chuckles low, feeling a smirk coming on. "I never said I was a prince."

She socks him in the shoulder and he knows she's laying it low now because that's his bad shoulder and she's a truly horrible friend.

But, all that is easily the last thing in his mind when his eyes cut to Jemma still conversing with Skye and Fitz. Trying to get as much words with her two best friends as possible before they have to leave. Those amazing eyes lit up with mirth. That distracting mouth turned up in a fond smile at the two while she shakes her head with some laughter. Short hair swinging in movement.

He _adores_ her.

And he has no idea what to do with that.

She's everything he hadn't known he wants, really - a certified genius and _fucking_ gorgeous, at least he has excellent taste in that - and it sometimes takes all that he is to tamp down the growing feeling that's akin to devotion whenever he's with her in that lab and she's stitching him up while admonishing him for being reckless or he's getting her a pick-me-up in the form of her favorite tea or-

Just... anything she does and he's a second away from handing himself over to her.

She owns him and doesn't even _know_ _it_.

And as luck would have it, he's about to spend the most time alone with as he's ever had the chance to have in the name of a mission and like he said, he is nothing if not an opportunist.

Maybe this'll turn out well.

"Grant!" He hears her call and it pulls him away from the thoughts containing her at this very moment and he sees that she's smiling widely in his direction. "I'm ready to leave. Come along!"

And if he happens to sigh like a besotted idiot when she smiles at him like that, no one but him knows.

Well, him and Bobbi. Who turns and raises a perfectly arched brow at him. "Grant?" She asks at the casual usage of his first name that she knows the other woman has never called him by.

He heaves a different kind of sigh this time. "I'm about to be her husband. It's strategic." He half-lies without really wanting to.

"It's adorable." She quips, one of those razor-sharp, shark smiles enveloping her face.

He huffs. He can't help himself. "A lot of people call me Grant."

"Yeah, but I bet you like it a lot when _she_ does, huh?"

Again with the suggestive tone. He has to leave now or risk wanting to stab himself in the ear canal and he starts to go, ignoring the urge to spill out how much he does enjoy Jemma uttering his first name. "You're impossible. I have to go. Bye."

He's several steps ahead towards the Quinjet, a million thoughts rolling a mile a minute through his brain, when he hears. "Hey, wait!"

_God, what now?_

He turns to see Bobbi rushing towards him with a long, triangular black box in her hands and he stands back when she reaches him and extends towards him. "Your rings."

He swears his brain burns it's circuits right the hell out. "My... what?"

" _Wedding_ rings." She elaborates as though speaking to a slow child and gives him a funny look. "Rings worn by married couples- Am I really gonna have to explain to you??" She asks with exasperation.

"Wha- No." He utters with annoyance. "No. I just meant, _you're_ giving us the rings?"

The tall blonde shrugs as though it's obvious. "Well, yeah. I mean I'd like to think if you did get married that _I_ would be your best woman." She adds with a 'duh' inflection in her voice.

"You're hilarious." He says without much heat as she grins at him sarcastically. "Give me those." He snatches the box out of her hands and opens it slightly to peak in. Black velvet opens into deep red satin lining with two styles and sizes of wedding rings inside.

"The black silver is for you, obviously." She utters, pointing at said two rings. "And the white gold is for your new bride."

She says this all without so much as a joke and when he cocks his eyebrow at her, she just shrugs again. "I'm just repeating what they told me." And then she adds with zero irony. "And also, they're the real deal so, bring them back unscathed, please. Jewelry designers are _very_ sensitive."

"Alright." He shuts the box and starts to turns to go. "Thanks-"

"Hey. Look." She says and this must be something because she sounds serious now. "I know this kind of stuff makes you uncomfortable so, I'm just gonna say this." She takes a breath and then looks him dead in the eye. "I apologize for teasing you earlier..."

"But?"

" _But_ , I think..." She leans in closer and drops into more of a whisper. "I think this would be a great opportunity for you. I mean, you like her. Everybody knows that." He rolls his eyes because he'd thought he had been more subtle but, well... "And she likes you, too, so-"

"She does?" He asks, heart lurching in his chest pathetically.

"-Anyway, just, y'know..." She pats him on said chest where his heart is now hammering thanks to her damn words. "...Do what you do. Take a chance. It could be worth it." She adds, winking before starting to walk off. "Good luck."

 _Dammit_. He thinks, turning to see his object of affection already sitting in her seat. Lovely as ever. _Thanks a lot, Bobbi_.

Yeah, this is gonna turn out real well.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! :)) Sorry it took soo long. I can't really make any promises about the next update so, in advance, please forgive me.


	3. Chapter 3

They make it to Italy in a matter of a couple of hours, courtesy of the Quinjet that drops them at an air field far off from the Playground and then the private plane (staffed by SHIELD personal, no less) that finally lands them in Rome and then all the way to the penthouse to be used for their stay as well as their cover as Sophie and Joseph Rossi. Newly married, rich couple on a honeymoon.

Newly married couple, god. He thinks as he grabs their bags from the trunk of their car. Newly married couple on honeymoon. Great.

He could have dealt with playing married with time in. Considerably young married couple who've grown bored with each other. Which would make it a lot easier to... not do things newly weds normally do on their honeymoons.

Like... kissing. PDA. Sweet talk. And touching. Lots of touching. Acting in love, basically.

But, _no_.

'Course, even if they do have to play a long-married couple well past the early love phase, anyone would take one glance at Jemma and wonder how the hell he'd ever _not_ act as besotted with her as the day they met.

Hell, he's already there without them having done anything.

They're supposed to have money on this one. Well, she's supposed to be from money and he's supposed to have come from comfortable enough roots to have caught her eye in the first place.

Hence, the penthouse.

"Oh my." She says upon them walking into their new home. Well, their cover's home. "Oh my god."

It's big. Even he, having already gone undercover as millionaires and the like before now, can attest to that. Even his eyes can fully appreciate the warm, pleasing tones of the space. Shades of cream and warm reddish-browns decorating the living room with variants along the kitchen (the part of him that so enjoyed being undercover as a chief is kinda fanboying over that, too), a space every bit as elegant as everything else, with it's dark wood cabinetry and marble countertops with the plentiful induction stove.

He even likes the balcony in the-

Bedroom.

Shit. Their bedroom.

Whatever turmoil may be going on in his head is obviously not echoed from his partner as she gasps over the area. "Oh my god." She repeats, covering her mouth with both her hands and he tries (and fails) to not find it adorable. "Everything is beautiful. They've really... put things together, haven't they?"

Of course, she means their boss. And the help they'd called in the short few hours before getting here.

"Yeah. It's quite a place." Is all he can say, staring numbly at the big, king-sized canopy bed in the center of the room. Almost calling him out for every filthy thought he's ever had about the brilliant, gorgeous woman who's gonna pretend to be his wife. Maybe end up sharing that bed with him.

It also doesn't help anything that most of his most vivid fantasies have been almost exclusively in this kind of setting: Nice spacious, comfy, _sturdy_ mattress where he learns every inch of her by golden light for hours upon hours. Murmuring sweet terms of endearment onto her naked skin. Sometimes the opposite. Either way, it's -

"Grant."

He snaps to attention abruptly and turns his eyes towards Jemma, very much clothed and composed and lovely... and who's giving him a funny look. All scrunched up nose and squinted eyes. God, she's cute. "Are you alright? You went somewhere just then. Do you feel unwell?"

The real concern expressed on her beautiful face causes his answer to clog up in his throat. _This?_ This right here is why he's beating himself up over having said yes to this assignment (or rather, _not_ refusing after Coulson had handed it to him). The look on her face and the things it does to his heart. The way in which any in a multitude of emotions shine in her eyes squeeze at his insides and makes him wanna reach out to her and never let her go.

How he can't _not_ look after her. Even when he'd barely known her and she had uttered something off-hand about being a little hungry because of forgetfulness, he had instinctively scoured the base's kitchen and made her a turkey club that she'd taken with a confused, pleased smile and a tired word of gratitude. Or in the months following, learning her favorite foods and snacks and what her tea preference is. Sometimes raiding dig sites to get the strangest oddity for her to examine and even keep, knowing that she alone would appreciate something like that.

Hell, it'd even come to the point where he would prepare and leave behind a specific meal for her during her particularly late nights. His spaghetti and meatballs a particular favorite of hers.

God, he's so gone on her.

One of the many reasons he should have said no to this. Should have shoved aside the jealousy that arose in his throat when Coulson, eyes gleaming knowingly, had asked after he had spotted the specialist's hesitation, if he'd rather Simmons go with Tripp, instead. Which... he loves Tripp. The man is one of his closest friends and despite his inability to put it into exact words, Tripp knows how he feels about the biochemist.

But, yeah, the very thought of she and the other man alone, in Italy, together still makes him wanna vomit so...

Thus, he's sealed his own fate. Perfect.

And there's also the question of her. He honestly doesn't know how Jemma feels about him. For all that she's naturally sweet and warm and open, she has remained more than professional during their interactions, if friendly and un-standoffish. More than him, admittedly. But, it's in the other encounters that he can call into question. The way he knows she smiles at him differently than anyone else. The way she'd blushed a few times when she would examine him after a mission after his shirt would inevitably come off, though with a shyness he rarely encountered with another woman before. A delicious, unforced coyness he'd wanted (still wants) for his own.

The signals are mixed at best but, they are there. Whether she's aware of it or not, she's giving something off. He's a specialist, he's trained for a variety of situations. Meant to read these things. Signs of attraction. Meant to see them in a mark and take full advantage, if need be. Though... she's not a mark. Not in that way, at least. And he would never use any perceived reciprocation on her part against her.

But, like he'd mentioned before, he is an opportunist.

And this particular opportunity - time spent alone with the most beautiful women he's ever seen in his life, in one of the most romantic places on earth, with signs that she may be receptive to something with him, at least - just might be the greatest yet. 

He doesn't what'll happen if (when) he ends up making a move but, he knows that all he needs is a little more time and patience and then... it will hopefully pay off. Some way. Somehow.

He smiles at her. Revels in the color high on her face as a result. "I'm better." He utters with complete honesty.

"Good." She says honestly with her own smile. That smile. The smile that she'd unknowingly (maybe?) tailored for him. He doesn't know. He's just glad it's there. "I'm pleased to hear it."

And with that, they move on to unpack and he goes on to contact Coulson to let him know that they've arrived without trouble while Simmons takes the shower first - and isn't that an image he doesn't need clinging to his brain when he's calling his superior? - after they make plans for dinner. For the assignment, of course. He's done and accomplished many of these missions. He has a few methods to keep things even and not liable to fall apart early in the game. In the past, when he and Bobbi have been on such assignments, they'd go out on the town (depending on who they were portraying, obviously) and make appearances as their covers to avoid any and all suspicions. Get a feel of the surroundings. Maybe take a gander at their target, if need be. Cover their bases, as it were.

But, he's not partnered with Bobbi. He's here with Jemma. Whom he... anyway, it's different.

He and Bobbi have known each other for years and he often thinks of her as a super annoying sister - bringing a whole new level of non-awkward awkwardness to their having played romantic couples in the past - and with Jemma it's... the very thought of playing her husband brings a stupid warmth to his chest that he would rather do without. If for the sake of professionalism.

Yet no. Here he is. A total mess. Over something as innocuous as dinner.

Aw fuck.

He gets himself ready as well. Tucks out his best dress shirt and slacks for the evening and takes over the apartment's second bathroom to handle his own business of cleaning up and (because he hadn't had the time to do so) grooming up his beard down to a five o'clock shadow to look a little bit more polished. Slapping on some aftershave and cologne to finish up. Not willing to get into how this is feeling more and more like a date as the minutes tick by.

They're staying just outside of the city limits between Rome and Florence so, the restaurant they're headed to is right in front of the Trevi Fountain because, of course, he has to push, doesn't he?

He just needs to calm his nerves before he does something idiotic like make this more romantic than it has to be. Which, technically, it kinda needs to because they are play-acting a married couple but, he still wants to keep it professional enough to focus on their mission.

Mission being the investigation of suspected scientist Roberto Ianucci. A filthy rich man with a rumored pension for women and dirty dealings. Like selling biological weaponry to the highest bidder in the black market. A kind of deal that's said to be going down in the near future. One of many reasons why there'd been such a rush to get to Italy should they miss anything pivotal in this particular case.

And the main reason - next to another that Ward suspects Coulson knows more than he lets on about the interpersonal relationships among his agents - that Simmons had been partnered with him on this op. She's the brains here. She doesn't put together weapons but, she knows biochemistry, which could prove important should anything go down.

He's in the process of doing his tie when he hears a soft voice behind him. "Grant?"

He turns without a second thought and Jemma is standing there in a golden cocktail dress - whoa - and high heels. Her shoulder-length hair now up in a loose bun with bits of tendrils trailing down her neck and collarbone as revealed by the low-cut neckline of the dress that shimmers and clings and hugs every inch of her body in ways he's always dreamed of and he's now convinced that somewhere in the world there's a small Italian man pleased with himself about giving him a heart attack because of this particular creation.

He's certain that this won't be the most revealing piece of clothing that he'll be seeing on anybody, especially here in Italy, but it is the most revealing on Jemma and that's the thing that his mind holds onto to justify his probable gaping at her dressed like that.

She's already the most beautiful he's ever met in real life and honestly he could give a shit about her wardrobe choices - they'd met whilst she had been in a lab coat and goggles that'd barely put a dent in his desire soo - and now, she's notched it up to ten and how the hell is to survive around her like that?

And also, he's been silent too long, probably staring at her like a fucking idiot who'd never seen skin before, because the expectant look on her gorgeous face falls into a frown. The effect like the sun dimming before it's time.

"It's too much, isn't it?" She starts asking with a fidget towards the hemline barely touching her knee and god, he hadn't known she had legs (there are nice legs and then there's what Jemma Simmons hides under her modest pants). Simmons has legs. Why hadn't anybody thought to tell him about this?

"I'll just-" She turns around and the movement is enough to snap him out of it and the next words out of his mouth are without any forethought-

"You're beautiful!"

Shit.

He doesn't even realize that he's blurted those particular words out until she's turning around and looking at him with a look of mild yet delighted (he hopes) disbelief on her face. That tell-tale splash of pink spreading on the high points of her face. That perfect mouth of hers forming into an even more perfect 'O'. Eyes big, bright, and beautiful in her surprise.

The whole picture sorta reminds him of her back at the Playground after a new discovery that has put a similar expression to what she's wearing now. Only lab coats and goggles accompanying the whole look of wonder in place of an expensive dress. All surprise and unquenched curiosity. Expressive, lovely eyes and round, rosebud mouth.

He wants to sink his teeth into her.

And, once more, therein lies the issue.

"What I meant was..." He stammers before he could tell himself to _please shut up, Grant, before you make a bigger fool of yourself_ and gestures off-handedly towards the number so lovingly wrapped around her frame - just holding barely keeping from actually air sweeping her up and down like the secret pervert that he is. "...Is that you look, um..." When the correct phrase comes back to him, he holds back from snapping his fingers in triumph and instead adds as casually as he can. "...Lovely. You look very lovely."

That word sounds... _odd_ coming out of his mouth. He's been using that word (among many others) to describe her in his mind for almost a year and yet this is the first time he's actually said it out loud and though it embarrasses him greatly, the sweetly pleased expression on that takes over her features removes a good brunt of the school-boy feeling he's having right now. "Really?"

He nods, not trusting himself to speak anymore because, uh,  _well_...

"Thank you." She peers down at herself and he can't help but follow her gaze and - goddammit, legs! - then looking away a second before she can returns her eyes back to him and his heart goes taut in his chest with how flattered and flustered she seems at the simple compliment. "I, um... it's not mine, you see." She blushes deeper and he literally digs gis heel into the floor beneath him to keep from getting closer to her. Hold it together, Ward. "Bobbi and Skye thought it would well, ideal for this mission in particular so..."

'Course they did. He thinks spitefully, wanting to simultaneously send both his cohorts a great big gift basket and then also, give them both a tongue-lashing of a lifetime because despite his best efforts, they know. They fucking know all about this and still they'd convinced her to pack a dress that had been designed to fuck his entire world up, he's sure of it.

"And you don't look too bad yourself." She adds with a wide smile and sparkling, sincere eyes and jesus, he's way too young to be having a heart attack right now. "Very dapper."

It happens real quick. Quick enough that he almost misses it... but, he doesn't have the reputation that he has for no reason and he knows that in between the words very and dapper her lovely, twinkling gaze had swept him up and down much like he had tried not to do earlier before returning to their original place on his face and yeah, he's pretty impressed with how fast she'd almost been able to hide it.

It makes him recall that moment in her quarters when he had gone to get her to leave the base all those hours ago. The way he's certain she had tried to subtly eye whilst he'd helped her find her toiletry bag and then when he had asked her gently to use his first name if for the sake of this assignment.

It makes him feel a whole lot better and skims off the top of his embarrassment and he straightens, gaining a bit of his old confidence back. "Thank you." He gestures towards the door and steps to wrap a hand over the handle. "Shall we?"

She nods primly, smiling at him in a way that never fails to make him feel warmer. "We shall."

And if he happens to take a long deep breath as she walks out of the door he's opened for her to sniff in her scent and if after he has closed the door behind them, he's placed his palm on her lower back and doesn't take it away when she doesn't say to, that's _his_ business.

She may just kill him by the end of this and to his worry, he's starting to care less and less.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the wait! :( And also, because this is shorter than I'd originally wanted although it's also long enough that I could justify not putting another section in. What can I say? Simmons' POV is still coming in fuzzy at best and Ward was just not finished with his thoughts. Hope you enjoyed it, though!


End file.
